


I'm Here

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1655942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock realises his feelings for John are not quite platonic when he gets injured while John is away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'people'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



> For my beautiful yarnjunkie, without whom I would be an absolute mess, and with whom I am a somewhat mess.

It wasn't until John was gone at a work seminar that Sherlock realised what he really felt for him. They'd fallen into such an easy existence that all the gentle touches and reassuring motions had become the norm. If Sherlock had ever had a friend before John he would have known that their level of intimacy was not friendly. It went far beyond. That was why everyone always thought they were together. 

So John had gone away to the seminar for a few days and Sherlock had continued on a with a case he really shouldn't have. If he were more honest with himself he would admit that he was probably trying to get hurt, trying to have some of the attentions focused elsewhere brought back on him. He didn't really have any right to complain when he was assaulted by a man he knew would assault him. That wasn't why he was complaining though. 

"You've got to let the medic do his job, Sherlock!" Greg said angrily. 

Sherlock bucked like a frightened colt and the young man drew his hands back. 

"Don't touch me!" Sherlock hissed. 

"Sherlock, he has to see if it's broken!" Greg tried again. 

Sherlock sneered and ignored the pain that nearly overtook him as he turned to yell at Greg.

"I won't have their hands on me! I won't!"

"I thought you were over this, Sherlock. He's got to see if it's broken." Greg replied, eyebrows knit. 

It would occur to Greg later, much later, that he should have been more concerned over the perpetrators of the crime than Sherlock bloody Holmes. Yes, he was always more focused on Sherlock, true, but things had been so much better since John came along that he forgot what it was like to have an angry and injured Sherlock on your hands. 

Sherlock stood and started limping away, face flushed and eyes flitting back and forth. Greg followed after him. 

"John. John will check it when he gets home." Sherlock muttered. 

Greg sighed and pulled out his mobile. "John won't be back for another two days. You've got to get it looked at now. You can't go home with a broken ankle." 

Sherlock continued to argue for the next ten minutes before Mycroft's personal doctor showed up on the scene and dosed Sherlock with a not so mild sedative. At that point no one could convince him to sit down, and he was wincing in pain. 

Mycroft moved next to Greg. "Our dear doctor is out of town, is he?" 

"Didn't think he'd regress like this." Greg replied. 

"Well, we didn't any of us know what he'd be like without John around. Probably wouldn't have if he'd stuck to cases without the threat of bodily harm." Mycroft replied, tapping his umbrella absently on the ground. 

\-----

When John got home the next day, stuck on an early train after hearing about Sherlock's merely twisted ankle but raucous behavior, he tried to convince himself it wasn't a thrill to see Sherlock undone without him. He could have stayed at the seminar, but this gave him a great excuse to get away from the busy hotel and back to the thing he'd really signed his life away to pursue; the safety and sanity of Sherlock Holmes. 

He heard a cup smash as he walked up the stairs, lugging his overnight bag and cursing his shoulder. Just as he made it to the top of the landing Mrs Hudson walked out of their flat and stifled a cry as she passed John on the stairs. John took a deep breath and readied himself for a fight. 

"Sherlock what in the hell-" He began. 

Sherlock spun around, eyes wild and hair impossibly wilder (think Gene), and locked eyes with his doctor. 

"John! You're not due back." Sherlock whimpered. 

John set his bag down and before he could assess the room Sherlock was in his personal space. 

"It hurts, John." He whispered. 

John sighed an led Sherlock to his bedroom. He sat him on the edge and knelt to appraise the sprain. Sherlock winced but sat fairly still as John maneuvered his foot and felt the tissue for swelling. The ankle was about twice the size it should be, but that was probably due to Sherlock stubbornly walking on the injured leg. When John looked up he was surprised by what he saw. Sherlock's face was open and sad. 

"Greg told me they had to sedate you." He said carefully. "What happened?" 

"I dont-" Sherlock began. 

John stood and sat on the bed next to him. When it looked as though Sherlock wasn't going to go on John placed his hand on Sherlock's thigh. 

"I don't like it when people touch me." Sherlock exclaimed. 

John drew his hand back quickly. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" He began. 

Sherlock caught his hand and brought it back to his thigh. 

"People, John. I don't like when PEOPLE touch me. When it's you, it's..." And with that he trailed off again, looking over John's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help." John said honestly, squeezing Sherlock's thigh and looking at him with worry. 

Sherlock looked back at him then and slipped off the bed to his knees. John sat up at the quick movement and had all the air sucked from his lungs when Sherlock lay his head in his lap. He hesitated for a moment before running his fingers through Sherlock's curls. Sherlock hummed and closed his eyes. 

"It's, it's alright now. I'm here." John whispered. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's legs and nodded gently.


	2. Fuck. My. Mouth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title says it all.

After a few minutes of raking his fingers through Sherlock's hair John helped him to his feet and onto the bed. Sherlock lay on his side while John got a bag of frozen peas and two paracetamols. He elevated Sherlock's leg and wrapped it with the frozen peas then handed him the pills and brought him a glass of water. Sherlock drank half of it before handing the glass back. John was about to leave when he spoke. 

"I've been a fool, John."

John turned and cocked his head. "Not sure what you mean, Sherlock." 

"About us." Sherlock replied, eyes slightly wet. 

John felt his stomach turn over. He couldn't mean what John thought he meant, he just couldn't. John had spent far too long hoping for Sherlock to say something like that. Now that it was happening he didn't belive it. 

"What about us?" He said, mouth dry. 

"John." Sherlock replied. 

Everything John needed to know was in that syllable, all the longing, all the want, all the pain of ignoring something this strong for so long. John walked to the side of the bed and sat down. He reached for Sherlock's hand but wasn't able to look him in the eye. 

"I haven't had a friend before, you know. I honestly didn't know, John. I didn't know that this wasn't friendship." Sherlock said. 

"It was in the beginning." John tried. 

Sherlock snorted. "You mean when you asked if I was single?" 

John smiled and looked away. "Was I really that transparent?" 

The left side of Sherlock's mouth quirked up. "Absolutely. I found it endearing." 

John rolled his eyes but continued to stroke the back of Sherlock's hand with his thumb. "So what about being married to your work?" 

"I've been left...wanting." Sherlock purred. 

The air in the room seemed to change, charged suddenly with electricity. John looked down at Sherlock and cleared his throat. 

"W-wanting?" He asked, mortified by his unsteady voice. 

Sherlock smiled and rolled his hips. John looked down and found he was already partially hard. He drew in a quick breath as he felt himself begin to respond. He'd never been with a man before, well except in the army, but that was different. He'd never been with a man with his eyes open. He'd never been with a man without pretending he was with a woman. 

It wasn't like his buddies in the army didn't know. They did the same thing. A hot mouth around your cock was a hot mouth, right? So he'd never thought himself gay. He always figured that he'd find some nice girl and settle down. Get married. Have kids. 

The life he craved wasn't conducive to settling down. He knew that. It was conducive to Sherlock. 

Sherlock was looking up at him now, eyes dark in the low light. John wanted to touch him, wanted to lick into his mouth and taste him. He wanted so badly. 'Left wanting' he thought 'quite'. 

"Probably tea and honey." Sherlock said. 

John shook his head. "Sorry, what?" 

"You want to know what I taste like. Probably tea and honey." Sherlock said. 

He said it as though it weren't the most arousing thing he could say at that point. Then he said something more arousing. 

"Perhaps you should see for yourself."

And with that John was turning towards him and bending down to take his mouth. Their lips slid together, John's wet from his unconscious licking and Sherlock's soft and dry. Sherlock ran his hand up John's neck and gripped his short hair. His hands were strong and John very nearly came from the feeling of the callouses on his fingers against the soft skin of his nape. 

Sherlock pulled back to look at John. He seemed softer somehow, more human. John's heart swelled with the thought that this is what he brought out in Sherlock. This is what his care had done. 

John ran his thumbs across Sherlock's cheeks, gasping at the way the coarse hair gripped his skin. It must have been a day since Sherlock last shaved. John suddenly had the urge to feel the stubble on his tongue, so he leaned down and licked at his jaw, drawing his teeth against the skin and eliciting the most wonderful sob from Sherlock. 

"Please, John. Please touch me." He whimpered. 

John lay back on the bed and unbuttoned his jeans, slipping out of them and his pants as Sherlock pulled down his pajama trousers. When he tried to turn on his side John stopped him. 

"Mind your ankle." He said, rubbing his hand down Sherlock's chest. 

"Yes, doctor." Sherlock purred. 

John moaned and felt a large drop of precome hit his belly. Sherlock grinned wickedly. 

"You're going to be the death of me." John said, voice dark. 

Sherlock pulled him in for a kiss as he trialed his hand lower, carding his fingers through a patch of thick short hair and then gripping the base of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock bucked his hips and grunted into John's mouth. John stroked him slowly and ran his thumb across the slick head. Sherlock drew back quickly and took a deep gasping breath. 

John did it again and smiled as Sherlock's eyes shot wide. 

"Oh, John." He moaned, dragging John's name out until it took up several seconds. 

"What do you want, Sherlock?" John asked, speeding up his strokes and kissing Sherlock's chest. 

"I want-I want to come." He choked, face flushed and forehead shining with beads of sweat. 

John smiled widely. "Already?" He teased. 

Sherlock bucked into his fist and nodded emphatically. 

"I've needed to co-come for you for ages." He whispered. 

John's cock twitched and he cupped Sherlock's bollocks. 

"You have, haven't you? Well that's alright, come for me then. Go ahead." He said, focusing on the head and rolling his bollocks back and forth. 

Sherlock grunted and clenched his eyes closed, his back arching off the bed. Hot come spilled from his cock, coating his stomach and chest and making John's strokes that much quicker. He continued to come as John stroked him, and when he was finally spent his body slumped back into the sheets. John wiped his hand on his shirt and pulled it off over his head. 

Sherlock's eyes were still closed, mouth open slightly as he panted. John reached down to finally pay some attention to his now aching cock. 

"Stop." Sherlock said, eyes blinking open. 

John's arm stilled and he looked back at Sherlock. 

"I want to suck you. Straddle my chest. I want you to fuck my mouth." He said quickly, cheeks growing pinker. 

"Oh, Jesus. Are you sure? Have you-" John began. 

"I'm hardly a virgin, John. I went to public school after all." Sherlock said with a sleepy wink. 

John chuckled and held a hand over his face. It had been a very long time since he'd got his dick sucked. He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and then climbed atop Sherlock. He moaned as the head of his prick ran through Sherlock's semen and Sherlock grinned. 

"If you want to stop, you can always-" John began again. 

"Fuck. My. Mouth." Sherlock growled. 

John held his prick and pushed his pelvis down so the head slipped between Sherlock's plump lips. He could barely breathe as Sherlock sucked once and licked at the slit before gripping John's arsecheeks and urging him forward. John started to curse as he built up a rhythm, gently thrusting his hips so his cock pushed in and out of Sherlock's mouth. 

Sherlock ran his tongue against John's shaft and dug his fingernails into the older man's buttocks. John sped up his thrusts and Sherlock applied more suction. 

"Oh, fuck. Oh, Christ. Bloody hell. Oh!" John shouted. 

Sherlock could feel John's legs trembling and knew he was getting close. He touched his hand to his belly and gathered some of his own come, rubbing his fingers together to coat them and warm it. John's hips were moving quickly as he reached back up and pressed one strong finger to John's hole. John bucked and shouted and came, shaking and sobbing the whole while. 

Sherlock sucked rhythmically as John's release filled his mouth. He drank it down and hummed to himself. After a few seconds John regained his composure and pulled his softening cock from Sherlock's mouth. He lay on the bed, careful not to hit Sherlock's face, his beautiful impossible face, with his knee. 

"You've been holding out on me, Sherlock Holmes." He murmured. 

Sherlock chuckled deeply and wiped his chest with John's discarded shirt. He pulled John's hand so the army doctor was laid out half across him and closed his eyes. 

"This was nice." John whispered. 

"Good deduction, that." Sherlock teased. 

John pinched his belly and Sherlock yelped. 

"No need for sarcasm." John said. 

"So...what will you say the next time someone mistakes us for a couple?" Sherlock asked nervously. 

"Suppose it won't be a mistake." John said, gripping Sherlock's side and nuzzling into his chest. 

Sherlock kissed him gently on the forehead and slowly drifted off.


End file.
